IT was an hour before sunrise at Tolchaco and Bauer had awakened from a
restful sleep and from the place where he lay in the Council Hogan he
noted with pure enjoyment the splendid colour of the sky framed in the
opening, the exquisite blending from the pearly grey into the
unpaintable, soft moving colours that he had looked at with growing awe
during many wonderful mornings in July. He could not remove the
impression that it was God's hand that moved over the sky, painting with
an art that man's cheap imitation could never approach even in the
faintest degree.
It was the morning of the day they were all to start for Oraibi to see
the snake dance which was to be given in three or four days according to
announcements sent out by the runners. The Douglases had come as they
had planned and had been visiting at the mission now for two weeks. Mr.
and Mrs. Douglas were delighted with what they saw and heard of the
mission work. Walter had made a horseback trip to the Grand Canyon
through the solemn dry pine forest from Flagstaff and had returned to
Tolchaco in time to join the party for Oraibi. Helen had been received
at once as a favourite by all the mission people, had renewed her
acquaintance with Miss Gray, and had shown herself friendly, yet not too
friendly, with Bauer, who had steadily gained in strength and was
looking forward with great anticipation, as they all were, to the Oraibi
trip.
He lay there contentedly musing in his deliberate way, for he mused as
slowly as he spoke, when he was roused by a voice that came with clear
accents across the 'dobe flats. He had heard it often in the early
morning, but the sound of it never ceased to create in him a wondering
awe and more or less bewilderment to reconcile his first thought of
Elijah Clifford with other impressions that came on later. For it was
Clifford's voice quietly speaking, yet in such distinct fashion that,
although he was kneeling out on the edge of the 'dobe flats, what he
said was plainly heard by Bauer where he lay and unless he had covered
his ears he could not avoid catching the words.
"O Thou Dayspring from on high, what a glorious world we live in!
Forgive us that we shut our eyes to its beauty and close our ears to its
music. I thank you, God, for a good night's sleep and a good morning's
wakening. Help all of us to make it a good day for one another. We think
so much of ourselves, of our body's comfort, and what we shall eat and
drink and be clothed withal that sometimes a whole day has gone and we
no nearer the Kingdom. We've lost our way in the desert and the water
all gone. We are going to start out to-day to see these poor creatures
of yours go through their ancient prayer for rain. Forgive them, good
God. How should they know any better. No one ever told them of a better
way. And there's old Touchiniteel, poor old savage. I would give
anything, most anything, to see him brought into the fold. Is he too old
to be saved, Lord Jesus? Can't you save him? It's not easy, I know, but
we aren't asking you to do easy things out here. Most of them are hard,
but don't you like to do hard things? Isn't that what being God means?
And Peshlekietsetti--he's another, I want to see him saved. And old
Begwoettin. You know how the old man never told a lie in his life. And
he loves his grandchildren. Why, he would die in a minute for Ansa and
Riba. He can't be so very bad. Somehow I can't think of his being lost.
He isn't half so bad as Jake Rambeau, the trader. And Jake's had a high
school education and calls himself civilised.
"We are all in need of the Spirit's presence to-day. I want more of the
presence. My heart longs to walk with the Master to-day. If the Master
will be gentle with me as he was with Peter two or three times when he
didn't deserve it, I would be glad. O Master, tell me your will. I need
you so much, so much------"
And then the sound of the voice trailed off into a murmur
indistinguishable to Bauer from where he lay. But he knew that Elijah
Clifford had thrown himself full length on the ground and was pleading
in his own way for the Divine presence, for victory over himself and
triumph for the Kingdom in that desert, for once in the dawn when he had
heard his voice, Bauer had poked a hole through the dirt over the wall
of the hogan and for one moment, during which he felt almost ashamed for
looking, he had seen Clifford prostrate himself thus and lie there
outstretched for how long, he did not know. It did not seem right to him
to look for more than a minute.
After a silence of about half an hour, during which Bauer had risen,
Clifford appeared in the doorway of the hogan with his usual cheerful
"Good-morning; Sehr gut?"
"Ja, sehr gut," replied Bauer. "When do we start?"
"Right after breakfast."
"How long will it take us to make the trip to Oraibi?"
"Oh, it depends on how often we lose the way. May take two days, may
take three."
"Have you been there before?"
"Seen the snake dance five times."
"Is it as wonderful as they say?"
"Is it? I am just as much interested in it now as I was the first time.
But the poor devils! Half of 'em don't know what their rigamarole means.
And Mr. Masters thinks the government ought to put an end to it. Last
time there were over a hundred tourists came up from all over the
country and turned Oraibi into a sort of bargain day. The dance confirms
'em in their superstitions. But no mistake it's a wonderful sight to be
going on in the U. S."
"Mr. Masters said several parties were going to come this year from
Pittsburgh and New York."
"Yes. The Van Shaws are among them. I understood Miss Douglas to tell
Miss Gray that one of these Van Shaws was in the same school with her
brother and you. Do you know him?"
"Yes--I know who he is," said Bauer, slower than usual. He could not
forget the incident that occurred in Walter's room when Van Shaw had
started to relate an objectionable story and Walter had prevented him
from telling it. Van Shaw's general reputation for fast and questionable
habits corresponded with this incident and Bauer felt annoyed at the
possibility of a chance meeting with his party.
But in the bustle of preparation for the journey, everything else was
soon forgotten except the immediate interest. Bauer was not expected to
do anything except get his own few travelling necessities together. But
he quietly helped Mrs. Masters in a number of ways and she afterwards
told Clifford that the laconic German student was the most remarkable
young man she ever knew to anticipate a want and do a thing right the
first time.
"Just the opposite of me," said Clifford. "I have to do a thing twice
anyway to make sure, like the doctor in our old town in Vermont, who
used to say that if he didn't kill with the first operation he was dead
sure to cure with the next."
When the chuck wagons were all ready Bauer found to his pleasure that he
was assigned to the light platform spring wagon in which Esther and
Helen, together with Clifford and Mrs. Masters, were going. Mr. Masters,
Miss Gray, Walter and Miss Clifford were assigned to one of the chuck
wagons and Peshlekietsetti with two of the older pupils in the school
and one of the younger Indians had charge of a third wagon containing
the tents and the water.
The party was on the way shortly after sunrise and reached the place of
the ford in about an hour. The river was very low and as the wagons went
over on the rock ledge, only a few inches of water were trickling
through the wheels.
"You wouldn't believe, would you, Miss Douglas, that Mr. Bauer and I had
a good swim right about here a few weeks ago?"
"Oh, tell me about that," cried Helen, who with all the rest of the
visitors had of course heard of Bauer's rescue, and in her heart was
envious of Miss Gray for her physical prowess. But she had never been
able to prevail on her to give any but the most unsatisfactory account
of the rescue.
So Clifford launched into a glowing account of the affair, obliterating
himself entirely and making it seem that Miss Gray was the only person
present, so that Bauer had to give Helen the full account as near as he
could of Clifford's part in the rescue.
"It's a wonderful land! I wish such things would happen in Milton! And,
oh, look at those colours! Was anything ever like them!" Helen exclaimed
as the wagons came up out of the river bed and in full view of the
painted desert as it stretched out in its weird, fascinating beauty.
"Oh, I just can't contain it all!"
"You remind me," said Clifford who was driving, and now gave the horses
a free rein on a hard 'dobe stretch, "of a young lady who was writing
letters home from her first trip abroad for the use of the county paper.
She said, when she was in Venice, 'Last night I lay in a gondola in the
Grand Canal, drinking it all in, and life never seemed so full before.'"
Clifford winked at Bauer who was on the front seat with him, and Helen,
who was not yet used to Elijah Clifford's ways, at first turned red and
looked vexed, but afterwards laughed with the rest.
"Well, if your young lady was here she would have to say the same thing
about all this. I never had any thought that a desert was like this. I
supposed it was just nothing but sand spread out on a flat surface. But
look at those flowers! Did you ever see anything more delicate for
colour and form?"
"Most people think that way about the desert," said Clifford. "There are
more than sixty distinct varieties of vegetation this side of the river
between here and Red Stone Tank. Mr. Bauer can tell you the names of
some of 'em. He has begun to make a collection."
Bauer modestly replied in answer to a question from Helen that he had
classified only a few distinct species that he had found in his short
strolls from the Mission. He had the book with his things at Tolchaco
and would show it to her when they came back.
"I didn't know you cared for Botany," said Helen a little flippantly. "I
supposed you were all absorbed in your inventions."
Bauer's face changed colour slightly.
"I have always enjoyed God's earth," he said. "Anything that grows is
always more wonderful than anything that has to be made."
"I should think this would be a good place to try your incubator, it's
so hot," said Helen, feeling that she had made a foolish remark, but
letting it go rather than try to apologise to Bauer for her poor
judgment of him.
"Oh, say, tell us about that incubator," said Clifford. "Must be a lot
of money in a thing like that. I believe we could use some of 'em out
here to good advantage and make something for the Mission. There's a
great demand for broilers at Flagstaff, and the Harvey eating houses
would give us big money for any quantity of either eggs or young
chickens. If we could only educate 'em to live on sand and cactus.
Trouble is, feed is so high and we're so used to eating up everything,
that there ain't anything left over from meals, to give to chickens. I
suppose there ain't any way to fatten chickens without feeding 'em."
When Clifford spoke of Bauer's invention as a money maker, Helen was
reminded again of what she had almost forgotten, that Bauer had lost the
largest part of his profits from the sale of the patent rights.
Walter had written home about Bauer's father returning a part of what he
had stolen, and of Bauer's quiet acceptance of the event. Helen, as she
caught the look on his face whenever he partly turned about to speak to
those on the seat behind, could not help feeling a real interest in
him----if only he were not so plain looking, and so serious and above
all, so poor, and so destined to remain poor. No; she shut her eyes,
opened them again, looked at Bauer pensively, shook her head as if in
answer to a question, and then with a feeling of determination turned
her attention to the remarkable land through which the party was
travelling.
The sky was cloudless. The heat was dry and penetrating, and as the
forenoon wore away everyone grew thirsty. The cloth covered canteens
were called for often. At noon the wagons drew together and camped for
dinner. Two of the wagons were driven up side by side about ten feet
apart and the horses unhitched and hobbled. A spare canvas was drawn
over the tops of the two wagons to make shade for the dinner party.
Clifford, who acted as cook on camping out occasions, dug a hole in the
sand, filled it with dowegie roots and started his fire and in what
seemed an incredibly short time to the visitors from Milton a hearty
meal was ready. The Indians and their helpers squatted around on rugs
within the circle, Mr. Masters asked grace in a delightful tone of
genuine thanksgiving and added a few words in Navajo in which
Peshlekietsetti and the young Indians joined.
"This what I call the real thing," said Paul, as he helped himself to
his fourth sandwich and passed his cup for the third time for coffee.
"Yes, these are real sandwiches all right," said Clifford as he turned
over some pancakes which were cooking on a flat stone. "Anyone else want
a hot one made by the slab artist?"
Walter expressed a desire for one and politely handed it over to Miss
Gray. Clifford looked at him a moment and then at Miss Gray, who was
smiling her thanks.
"How's the batter?" he said to Walter.
"Good," said Walter who seemed in unusual spirits. "It's equal to a home
run with the bases all full."
"Do you think it needs to be any thicker?"
"No. It's thick enough," said Walter with his eyes on Miss Gray.
"Yes, what did I tell you," muttered Clifford to Bauer when an hour
later he and the German student were alone and out of ear shot from the
rest of the campers. Bauer had offered to help Clifford wash the dishes
at a water hole some hundred yards from the camp. "What did I tell you?
It's just as I said. Miss Gray has 'em all going. Cowboys, Indian
traders, missionaries, visitors, everybody. Now it's your friend
Douglas. He's a goner so soon. You watch when the wagons load up if he
don't manage to sit with Miss Gray. He's lost and there's no use sending
out an expedition to find him. He doesn't want to be found. And the
mystery of it is Miss Gray never tries. She just simply looks at you and
it's all over."
Bauer was amused and perplexed at Clifford's absolutely frank
confidence. There was nothing flippant about it either. It was the
simple expression of a nature that had nothing to conceal. There was not
even a hint of gossip about it, nor of ill nature. In a land where there
were no newspapers, telegraphs, telephones, railroads, or neighbours, it
seemed like the expression of a confidence which had in it neither
malice nor impertinent coarseness. And yet Bauer was puzzled to know
what Clifford's real feeling was towards Miss Gray even after Clifford's
own open statement made to him that day while they were sitting on the
old cottonwood by the river.
When the party started on again after a two hours' rest, Clifford nudged
Bauer to call attention to the fact that Walter and Miss Gray were in
the back seat of the chuck wagon in front of them. But he never
mentioned the matter again during the day, and until they reached the
night camping place he was alive with stories and information about the
desert, the Indians, the habits of the horses, the work of the Mission
and the coming snake dance.
The place chosen for the first night's camp was the Red Stone Tanks.
This consisted of a pool of tepid water and a few rocks, from the
crevices of which a straggling fringe of desert cedars was trying to
grow.
Camp was made here by pitching one of the big tents for the women. A big
fire of roots was started after the supper had been eaten, and when they
were all seated in the circle about the fire, Mr. Masters began a story.
Gradually as he went on with the old, old story of the lost sheep,
figures stole up around the fire. Paul, who with Esther and all the rest
was simply fascinated with the entire surroundings, although he did not
understand a word Masters was speaking, was startled as he looked around
and saw a dozen dark faces of young men and boys. They had risen out of
the desert barrenness and gloom, the sudden twilight, and silently
appeared. When the camp was chosen there was not a hogan or a living
creature anywhere in sight. But all of these quiet visitors knew that
the mission party was on the way to Oraibi and some of them had been
riding all day to meet Mr. and Mrs. Masters at this point.
When the story was finished, Miss Gray started a hymn, "The Ninety and
Nine." She sang with a low soft voice, almost talking the words, but old
Peshlekietsetti sitting by Mr. Clifford bent over his knees gravely
watching the singer's face and listening intently for every word, and
when she was through, he asked a question of Mr. Masters.
"The old man wants to know," said Masters after one or two more
questions had been asked, "how it happened that the sheep got lost and
if it was its own fault or the fault of someone who should have been
looking after it. That isn't a bad question to come from the old fellow.
His theology isn't half so much at fault as that of some theological
seminary professors I know, who teach that sin is nothing but a disease
and that nobody in particular is to blame for it. If he had to live out
here awhile instead of in his little upholstered study at the seminary,
he would change his definition."
The evening was spent about the fire with songs and conversation,
largely between Paul and Mr. Masters concerning the Navajo
characteristics. The last thing Bauer could remember as he lay under his
rug looking up at the stars, was the sight of old Peshlekietsetti
throwing a handful of dry roots on the fire as he sat bowed over his
knees, the fire flame gleaming red on his grave and dignified face.
He wakened early, as he had of late been doing, and sat up, noting the
sleeping figures in a circle about the ashes of the fire, and as his
look travelled on past them he noted out by the edge of the Black Gorge
through which they were to travel that day, a solitary figure sitting on
one of the curious rocks that framed a sort of gateway to the diminutive
canyon. Even at that distance he could distinguish the form of Elijah
Clifford, although he had already noticed that Clifford's rug and rubber
blanket, which had been spread out by his own, had been folded up and
tied ready for the day's trip.
Before the rest of the sleepers had stirred, Clifford came back to the
spot and began with the noiseless rapidity of an Indian to build the
fire in the sand preparatory to the breakfast, talking in a soft voice
to Bauer, as if Bauer had asked him a question, although Bauer had not
said a word except "Good-morning," when Clifford cheerfully greeted him.
"You see, I used to work on a daily paper in Kansas City before I was
converted and it seems to me now that I spend most of my time trying to
catch up with the day after to-morrow. I never had any leisure, never
went to church, never opened a Bible and never talked with myself. Since
I came out here I've had the time of my life in not only talking with
myself but------" He glanced at Bauer wistfully as he put some stones
around the hole and set his coffee pot down on the sand, "but I never
saw such a place as a desert to find God. It seems as if this was the
place to find him. You know Moses and Elijah and David and Paul and John
and lots of men found God in the wilderness. I suppose you could find
him while working for a daily paper, but He didn't seem to have much to
do with the one I was on. At any rate I never found Him there. That's
the reason I like to get up early. There's a time in the morning between
four and five out here, when it appears to me God has more time to tend
to individuals. Most everybody is asleep soundest about that time and He
can pay attention better to the comparatively few folks that don't need
so much rest."--Elijah said it as if to apologise for the habits of the
rest of the party and Bauer could not help smiling at his note of
evident haste not to take too much credit to himself for early rising.
"I thought maybe you might kind of wonder at my ways, and think maybe I
got up to write poetry or some such stuff. I believe you understand,
eh?"
"I believe I do," said Bauer gravely. "And I appreciate your confidence.
I know what it means to try to find God in a crowd. I think that is one
reason Jesus had to leave the multitude and go out into the desert
places."
"Yes," said Clifford, sitting down on the sand and putting his coffee
pot on a stone. "I didn't mention Him. I thought you would remember that
yourself."
This little glimpse into Elijah Clifford's personality did Bauer a world
of good and strengthened a growing liking for him which led in the
process of time, as this story goes on, to some very important results
in Bauer's life.
The day promised to be unusually hot and it was Masters's plan to get
through the Black Gorge canyon early, as it was famous for its stifling
heat and dust storms later in the day. So camp was broken immediately
after breakfast and the wagons were soon loaded with the bedding and
dishes and the journey resumed in the same order, so far as the
travellers were concerned, as before. Mr. Masters, who knew the trail at
the other end of the gorge better than anyone else, went first with Mrs.
Masters, Miss Clifford, Miss Gray and Walter and Clifford with Mr.
Douglas, Mrs. Douglas, Helen, and Bauer followed, Peshlekietsetti and
the heavy wagon trailing along in the rear.
Just as they were entering the Gorge, Clifford turned and looked back
towards the camp. Out across the Red Rock elevation he pointed out three
black specks. Looking at them through the mission field glass, a former
gift from Mr. Douglas, he announced them to be probably three wagons
with tourists from Canyon Diablo bound for the snake dance.
"May be your friend from Pittsburgh, Van Shaw, is in that outfit," he
said to Bauer.
Bauer did not reply. He hoped Van Shaw would not meet Walter or any of
their party. There was no reason why he should, but every time he
thought of Van Shaw he felt uncomfortable, something in him rose up
nearest to a feeling of hate and disgust he had ever known.
Clifford faced around and resumed the driving. He noted as he turned
into the opening that Peshlekietsetti had stopped just outside to strap
on one of the water barrels more securely, but seeing that he did not
ask for any help he drove on into the Gorge.
The Gorge was weirdly irregular and the windings of the road were so
many that very soon the wagons were all separated from view of one
another.
In this volcanic land one could not account for the fantastic and even
monstrous shapes of cliff and ledge and overhanging rock masses without
calling up some gigantic upheaval of all nature's vast play of forces;
earthquakes, fire, volcano, flood, wind, sand spouts of enormous height
and velocity, one after the other all these elemental storms must have
rocked and heaved and rent and tortured the earth and after all had
passed by, the hurricane of volcanic fire and missiles must have
scattered the debris of high mountains twisted into lumps of matter,
varying in size from a sky scraper to a comma.
It began and ended abruptly, as if in a freak of the upheaval a tornado
had picked up the end of a canyon somewhere, turned it over several times
in transit and finally dropped it bottom side up on the desert, breaking
it open when it fell and letting the fragments bump around like the
pounded rock in a concrete mixer.
In among these boulders Elijah Clifford guided the team, exercising all
his skill, for one of the horses was partly mustang, full of unused
energy, and Mr. Masters had chosen the trip to Oraibi to give the animal
some necessary training, trusting in Clifford's love of horses and his
special characteristic of carefulness to avoid any accidents. And all
would have gone well if the unforeseen and unavoidable had not occurred.
They were almost out of the gorge and Clifford had started to reply to a
question of Paul's concerning the nature of the rocks which were
different in colour on one side of the canyon from the other, when the
mustang shied in a perfectly excusable manner at a cedar stump which
hung out from a ledge so close that it almost scraped the frightened
animal. Before Clifford could get the team back into the narrow road the
front wheel struck a big stone. The jolt flung the pole with a jerk
against the mustang. He reared up and slewed around, unhitching one of
his tugs. Even then Clifford might have saved the situation if one of
the reins had not broken. But when that snapped it was a hopeless task.
Before any of the party knew what to do the now maddened team was
thrashing up the gorge. The result was only a question of the law, if
there is any, of accidents. Nobody ever knew just what did happen in
detail. Paul and Esther said afterwards that they jumped, although they
had always said they never would jump out of a runaway wagon. Helen
clung terrified to her seat until the hind wheel on her side of the
wagon was splintered and the wagon box fell down and she found herself
flung up against the bank. Clifford jumped for one of the horse's backs,
hoping to stop them by reaching their bridles, but his foot caught on
the dashboard and he fell, just missing the wheels as he rolled down the
trail. Bauer was the only one to remain in the wagon. Just as Clifford
made his unsuccessful leap the tongue snapped. The horses tore
themselves loose from the wrecked wagon and swept in a frenzy of fear
through the gorge, banging the fragments of tongue, whiffletrees and
harness about them, and what was left of the wagon came to a stop
between two big boulders, with Bauer clinging to the front seat with
white strained face wondering if the rest of them were all killed.
Clifford picked himself up and came limping along to where Paul and
Esther were sitting. He was all right himself excepting a few minor
bruises and was overjoyed to find that Mr. and Mrs. Douglas had escaped
serious injury. But when the three of them came to Helen they found her
almost in a swoon.
"I think I sprained my ankle," she said with a faint attempt at a
smile.
"Thank God we are not all killed!" exclaimed Esther, but before she
could say another word Helen had fainted. Her father and mother were
busy over her, Bauer had run up with a water canteen and Clifford was
ruefully regarding the wreck of the wagon when the sound of wheels was
heard.
"There's Peshlekietsetti," he said. "We'll have to put Miss Helen in the
chuck wagon. But how on earth are we going to get to Oraibi now?"
A large wagon turned the bend and the driver pulled up sharply. It was
not Peshlekietsetti, but the tourist party from Canyon Diablo. Bauer, as
he anxiously stood by Mrs. Douglas trying to restore Helen, was
conscious that a group of astonished and interested tourists had climbed
down from the wagon and had come up to the scene of the accident. As he
looked up he saw Van Shaw and heard him say, "Why, hello, Bauer! Didn't
expect to see you here. Had bad accident, haven't you? Anything we can
do to help?"